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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22736992">Homecoming</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/vodka_and_some_sass/pseuds/vodka_and_some_sass'>vodka_and_some_sass</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 18:14:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,320</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22736992</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/vodka_and_some_sass/pseuds/vodka_and_some_sass</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A two part story where Loki realises that the reader is conscious of talking about things she loves because she thinks that she bores or annoys people and so he endeavours to show her why he adores it when she rambles about her work.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Loki/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You let out a soft sigh as you sank into a seat of the bus that would take you home. Letting your head rest against the cold window, you smiled, thinking back to the first time you had come to Dublin all those years ago. You had stayed for less than a week but even then, you had believed that the small and friendly city was a place where you <em>belonged</em>.</p><p>Rolling your suitcase to your doorstep, you were about to take out your keys when the door opened and there stood Loki in a green merino wool V-neck and black pyjamas, a heartwarming grin on his face. You let go of all your bags and stepped into his open arms only to be pulled tightly against his warm body as his arms wrapped themselves around you. Now <em>this</em>? <em>This</em> was what <em>home</em> truly felt like. <em>Home</em> smelled like citrusy detergent and earthy soap and skin. <em>Home</em> was warm and cool, hard and soft at the same time, with a gentle baritone that echoed in your chest, which made you realise that he was saying something.</p><p>Sheepishly lifting your head from where you had tucked it into Loki’s neck, you met his eyes. A quiet laugh escaped from him when he realised you hadn’t been paying attention, his breath a visible swirl just above your head.</p><p>“I was saying that it’s cold out here. Why don’t you head up and get ready for bed and I’ll bring your bags and unpack for you?”</p><p>You nodded and pulled away from him reluctantly. “Put all the clothes for laundering. I miss the smell of our detergent,” you told him, as you made your way to the bedroom. What you didn’t tell him was that you missed smelling like him.</p><p>Half an hour later, you and Loki were on your bed with you curled against his side as he examined all the knick knacks scattered on the blanket that covered you both. He separated them into different piles and quirked an eyebrow, amusement playing on the corners of his lips.</p><p>“You’ve brought back about seven to ten souvenirs from each city, my darling. A tad excessive, don’t you think?”</p><p>You closed your eyes and thought of the past two months, the eight cities you had travelled to, the week long course you had conducted in each city. You thought about your evenings, spent exploring hidden bylanes, trying new food, visiting famous sites and taking innumerable photographs. <em>Alone</em>. Loki waited for you to say something, clearing the eccentric collection of key chains, magnets and shelf decorations and putting them into a bag. You slid down the headboard and rested your head in Loki’s now empty lap, wriggling to make yourself comfortable. You felt his long fingers gently comb through your hair, his nails lightly scratching your scalp and your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation. Letting out a content sigh, you finally looked up at him, your sleepy brown eyes meeting his warm and welcoming forest green ones.</p><p>“They’re reminders of all the places I want to go back to with you.” </p><p>“Oh.” </p><p>You had never thought you could render Loki speechless, but in that moment, you could see him trying to work out what he was feeling and what he wanted to say. After a second, with a slight shake of his head, he focused his attention back to you. “Tell me about the work?”</p><p>You felt some of your exhaustion wash away as you launched into a detailed account of the eight universities you had visited. You told Loki about how the students in Glasgow had made Braille copies of your research paper for the blind students who wanted to read about Scandinavian literature and culture, and how they had printed and raised your digital autograph and personalised message so that the blind students could feel it. You rambled about how one of the students in Helsinki still worshipped the Norse gods. He laughed at that, his eyes watering with mirth as you told him about the boy’s reaction to being told that you were, in fact, living with the very god himself. Cambridge had been your proudest moment, as you stood in your alma mater, teaching in the same classes you had once been taught in and taking pride in making the journey from that side of the podium to this side. You couldn’t help but sober up when you spoke of the students in Calcutta and Delhi, both cities that you had spent some of your student years in. You could feel him lending you strength as you described how in both cities, you had met students who had faced the violence from government. You spoke to young leaders in the universities who told you that they were willing to bleed to protect their democracy, and he gently wiped away a tear as you described the untouched wreck of a church that you had spent many mornings and evenings in. But your sadness was short lived as you remembered that those same students were the ones who had come up with some of the most intelligent and hard to answer questions during the course. Hong Kong and Seoul had been blurs of new and unique food choices, some bad tummy days and some adorable gifts of cartoonised illustrations of the characters in your latest book. Your last week had been in New York, where the students had been fun to interact with, but your favourite time had been spent talking to a director about the technicalities of turning your book into a movie, should the chance ever come along. </p><p>Twisting in Loki’s lap, your gaze landed on the clock and you realised you had been speaking for nearly forty five minutes. You felt heat rise up your neck and you felt a twinge of embarrassment.</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me to shut up?” You asked, feeling the blush rise all the way to your scalp as you tried to hide your face from Loki. If you hadn’t been attempting to conceal your embarrassment and lie down in the right position at the same time, you would have seen confusion flit across Loki’s face, but when his large hands wrapped around your wrists and moved your hands from your face, all you could see was love shining through his eyes.</p><p>“I would never ask you to stop talking. Specially about things you love.” </p><p>Loki usually was very good at convincing you and you had found that the god of lies was a title that was solely associated with the christianised myths of him. But even as he held your face in his hands, you thought back to all the times people had either told you that you were being too nerdy or boring, or had simply zoned out while you were talking to them. It had made you very self conscious about talking about your work and your studies in a situation that was not strictly academic. Instead you had taken to writing all your ideas, your discoveries and your learnings in journals. And Loki could see clearly that you did not believe that he truly loved listening to you, watching you as you lowered your inhibitions around him and spoke about things that brought you joy, that interested you and that gave you reasons to wear a full blown grin as opposed to the polite yet contained smile that was almost always on your face, and he could not help hate that the world had made you feel that way. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A two part story where Loki realises that the reader is conscious of talking about things she loves because she thinks that she bores or annoys people and so he endeavours to show her why he adores it when she rambles about her work.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Loki’s sharp ears caught the sound of the gravel crunching against her suitcase wheels and before she could knock or unlock the door, he swung it open, not bothering to hide the happiness he felt at having her back. He’d never admit it to her, but he had started counting down the minutes to her return even as she had stepped through the security gates at the airport, those two excruciatingly long months ago. He definitely would deny the fact that he had taken to sleeping on her side of the bed or the couch, simply because her smell lingered on the pillow and the throw blanket she favoured.</p><p>But when she stepped into his open arms, Loki felt like a void had been filled. <em>He was turning into such a sap</em>. He pulled her close, marvelling at how small she seemed against him, his arms going around her almost completely. He did not want to pull away, to let go of her even though she smelled of airports and coffee and exhaustion instead of her usual coconut shampoo and Earl Grey tea. He felt her huddle closer into his chest and realised that while he could deal with the chill of late November, his mortal was still susceptible to falling prey to the cold.</p><p>“Don’t you want to come in, my little love?”</p><p>She didn’t respond and for a second, he wondered if her fatigue had caused her to fall asleep in his arms right at their doorstep. <em>Not that he would mind it one bit. It would give him the opportunity to carry her over the threshold and into their room, like he dreamed of doing someday.</em> But she looked up at him, her brown eyes tired yet still shining with adoration. She had been relishing the feeling of him holding her again. A breathy chuckle escaped him as a wave of joy crashed into his heart. <em>To feel loved is an euphoric sensation.</em> </p><p>He repeated what he had said, missing the warmth of her small body as she agreed and pulled away, trudging to the bathroom to shower while leaving him instructions regarding her luggage. He had tossed all her clothes into the laundry basket and had put away her hygiene products. There was a small bag full of souvenirs and he knew that she’d want to show them to him, so he put it on his bedside table, knowing it will be the first thing she would want to talk about in the morning. Which is why he was pleasantly surprised when she crawled under the blanket and curled up against his side, reaching an arm over his torso to grab the bag and spill the contents onto the blanket that covered them both. He examined them, noticing that there were about sixty odd trinkets. He assumed they must have been gifts, for when she had travelled with him, she usually picked up only two, a magnet for their fridge and a keychain for her collection. Sorting them into piles, he couldn’t help but tease her a little.</p><p>“You’ve brought back about seven to ten souvenirs from each city, my darling. A tad excessive, don’t you think?”</p><p>She closed her eyes and Loki could almost hear her walking the memory lanes in her mind. He knew this trip had been special. It had come just after her book had become a bestseller and her doctoral thesis had been published. The trip was work, but he knew she saw it as a celebration. He cleared the knick knacks from the bed, scooping them with his large hands and dropping them back into the bag at his bedside. She slid down the bed then, twisting so that she could lay her head in his lap, her legs pulled against her stomach as she turned her upper body just enough to be able to see his face. Loki buried his fingers in her hair and gently ran them down her scalp. He had learned early in their relationship that it was the fastest way to soothe her and he was rewarded with her content sigh, the muscles in her face relaxing visibly and the tight skin around her eyes loosening as they fluttered shut. He waited, not wanting to disturb the sense of peace she was building around them. But then her eyes opened and she spoke.</p><p>“They’re reminders of all the places I want to go back to with you.” </p><p>Loki was known for his way with words. He was known for being able to think on his feet and catching him off-guard was more than just a mere challenge. Sometimes, it was an impossible task. But that one admission from the woman who had burrowed through layers and layers of trauma, insecurity and pain to find his heart and make her home there had him speechless. He could not understand the sudden burst of warmth and longing and joy that flooded him, wrapping around his soul like a blanket and making him feel… </p><p>He could not understand that feeling. And so, he tucked it away and looked back at her, turning the conversation around and asking her about her work. </p><p><em>“Tell me about work,”</em> had initially been Loki’s attempt at domesticity. He had seen her smile at the question in those sappy and nauseating romantic movies and had learned that with her, it was always the small gestures that meant more. And so he had asked her one evening when she had come back from teaching and he had been awestruck at how much more radiant and beautiful she looked when she spoke about her work. He relaxed back against the headboard of the bed and watched the exhaustion crumble away from around her as she launched into a detailed retelling of her travels. Loki didn’t know whether it was only a moment or almost a whole journey across the world later when she raised herself up and her eyes flitted to the clock. She stilled, before sending an almost accusatory  glance Loki’s way.</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me to shut up?”</p><p><em>What?</em> Loki could see the blush rise up her neck and he knew it was colouring her cheeks a deep pink, even though she had hidden her face in her hands. He could feel the embarrassment emanate off her in waves and it took him a long moment to realise that it was because she had felt like she had inconvenienced him with her talking. Loki choked down the scoff that rose at the idea, gently prying her hands away from her face and meeting her eyes.</p><p>“I would never ask you to stop talking. Specially about things you love.” </p><p>Loki could see that she didn’t believe him. He sensed that after years of being told that she talked too much or was too boring by people she had believed were her own, nothing he could say would make her accept that he adored every minute that she spent talking about her passions, her dreams and her world. He knew that she didn’t think he was lying, but felt that it was something he did out of obligation. For a second time that night, Loki did not know what to say. Yet as he held her, he wondered if she would believe her own eyes. </p><p>He pulled his hands away from her wrists and tugged her against him. He lay her down sideways on his chest, cupping her cheek with his large hand.</p><p>“Close your eyes?”</p><p>She frowned, not understanding his odd request.</p><p>“I want to show you something. Trust me.” And so she closed her eyes. Giving her a moment to relax, Loki followed her example and thought back to the evening spent listening to her. He allowed his magic to course through his fingertips, thin twines of gold and green weaving into her hair and then he showed her how he had seen her.</p><p>He showed her how he could see her eyes light up as she told him about the universities she visited, her brow crinkling as she tried to find the right words to describe them. Her arms were raised, fingers contorting into different shapes as she explained the structures of buildings or monuments. And he could see the lingering disbelief that she felt when she told him about the project for the blind students, shaking her head minutely as though a part of her was still denying the idea that she should be honoured in such a manner. And then she launched into a comical account of the interaction with the boy who came from a village that still worshipped the old gods. Her nose scrunched up and the corners of her eyes crinkled when she laughed just at the memory. Loki could see the muscles in her jaw twitch in rebellion as she tried to keep a straight face while mimicking the boy’s reaction but her glee bubbled over and Loki was helpless against the rising wave of his own joy. When she spoke of Cambridge, he saw a glimpse of the girl who had struggled for many years to be where she was now. A girl he hadn’t known, but who had been the foundation of the woman he was so hopelessly in love with now. Her eyes glazed over as she painted images of the corridors she had once walked through as a student, unsure of where life would lead her and weighed with the burden of student loans and assignments and an inherent need to give more than she had to her work. And then the pride as she described how it felt to revisit those corridors as a success story, the gleam in her eyes that he knew would have then been a blazing fire of determination. And he knew he’d see the fire in the morning, when she was rested and would find a new task to set her mind to.</p><p>Loki could get lost in watching her happiness and excitement shine through when he was cruelly yanked back to the conversation as her jaw ticked and her eyes darkened. He was surprised to see the muted embers of anger flicker in her eyes as she told him about the political unrest rife in India and his heart cracked when a tear rolled down her cheek while she destitutedly stated that children that young should not have to be fighting for their basic rights. But she saw her shake it off almost imperceptibly, a shudder coursing through her before a wide grin spread across her face and she began rambling about the new cuisines she had tried. He watched a myriad of expressions cross her face when she described how she had been lured by a delicious smelling treat that was being sold on the streets of Hong Kong, eaten quite a few before learning that she had been consuming fried frogs and then had spent the rest of the evening curled around the toilet, heaving till her stomach was empty. Loki could see the exhaustion slowly creep back around her, her recollection of the long conversation with a director about her book demure and punctuated by yawns. </p><p>As the images that Loki had projected into her mind began to fade, his magic drew back into him and he raised her face, warm with a flush. Bringing his lips to meet hers, he pulled her into a deep kiss, pouring his love for her and feeling her own adoration for him rise as she pushed against his lips. And even though he didn’t want to, he reluctantly pulled away, feeling a surge of satisfaction as her lips almost chased his. He rubbed her cheek, waiting for her to feel comfortable enough to meet his eyes after the intimate sharing of his thoughts. When she did, he rewarded her with a gentle kiss on the forehead.</p><p>“You are beautiful, funny and kind. But you are impossibly magnificent when you are happy. And I beg that you would never deny me the pleasure of seeing you so.” And this time, when she scrambled onto Loki, arms going around his shoulders and head pressing into his neck, he knew that even if she didn’t believe that she was all of those things, she wouldn’t feel like a burden the next time he asked her about her work. </p>
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